An Ally In
by Literary Melody
Summary: This is a one-shot dedicated to Draygen for being the 600th reviewer on my main story, The Beautifully Dark Sister. You don't need to be reading that one in order to read this one-shot. ... Darkness, Light, Pain, and Time... all one knows inside the depths of the Void.


**Hello, lovelies! This is a one-shot dedicated to** _Draygen_ **for being reviewer number 600 on my main story,** _The Beautifully Dark Sister._ **Go check that one out! Luckily for you, you don't need to be reading BDS in order to understand this one.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing affiliated with Tolkien, nor do I own the main prompt for this piece.**

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Darkness used to be a tortuous entity, enough to bring madness to all those made for the Sun. Pupils would constrict as smiles would widen, and the sound of clear laughter would envelop the expanse of land. Darkness was deep and silent, forlorn about nothing in particular. It was at once everything and nothing. Vision was compromised where not even a shape could be discerned from the cage he found himself in.

Fallen into the recesses of his mind, colors were no more than ideas that he once had and now lost. The rich black that once angered him now was smooth like velvet, muffling the racing thoughts of his mind, and almost bringing about a peace.

With Darkness, he felt nothing. In life, he could visualize reaching with a hand for a glass of cool water or feeling the wind swipe at his well-weathered face.

In the Void, there was no wind. There was no water. Alone with his shattered soul, the only thing that reminded him of his existence was the steady thrum of the earth as it pulsed with life around him. Life was not found in the eyes; otherwise he would still have his vision. Life was not even in the blood; a cape of coldness had surrounded him since the moment he was lost.

He wanted to look at his hand, see the flesh that adorned it. He wanted to have a heartbeat, something that told him he was really alive.

Sometimes, he wondered if he had gone mad. Was he dead? He couldn't know. Nothing hurt, yet everything ached from retired attempts to scream. He had been left to rot, eaten by Time and spat out by Light.

All he had was Darkness. He had no voice, but he liked to think that Darkness heard him and understood the sorrow. Darkness had no feeling, but sometimes he would swear that it embraced him in support. Other times, he was convinced that it was staring at him as if he was a variable that would not fit. He could understand that well enough – he did not fit, but what could be done?

He and Darkness endured one another, never _truly_ speaking but always with a silent quip of annoyance or interest from Darkness's part. He never said anything. But Darkness was older, born before him and perhaps even before Light. That was one thing that he and Darkness agreed on, and he knew that even without the words. Light was young and ruthless, demanding and shrill. Life was born from Darkness, but everyone only celebrated Light and Song. It made no sense to him or Darkness, and it angered them.

Time was irrelevant here too. He could only gather from heavy introspection that Time was unrelated and perhaps even indifferent to Light and Darkness. Time breathed superiority, and he had found interest in it. No doubt, it was born when Darkness was, but it persisted, not depending on anything. Time could not die. It made him hate Time all the more. Even Darkness could die if Light made enough noise.

 _He_ could die.

He still wasn't even sure he hadn't died.

As seductive as Darkness had become, and as his hatred for Time grew, the moment that a speck burst into his vision, Time even took notice and paused for a moment. It could have been years. It could have been a second. Only Time knew.

The speck had a color besides black, but he had forgotten the name of it. All he knew was that it was bright and promising. Light was teasing him, and he couldn't interpret what that meant. Darkness had been with him for so long that the thought of Light trying to corrupt his senses seemed almost rude and inconsiderate. But with Time carrying on, he couldn't deny his interest in why Light was speaking to him with this vision.

He watched the speck carefully and persisted to do so until Time beckoned Light to do something. At the sound of Light's taunting laughter, he felt hands reach for ears. The sound was instantly muffled and the gravity of his actions hit him with full force.

He _felt._

He _heard._

And he was _seeing._

He felt Darkness scrambling in his mind suddenly, fearsome and displeased. Darkness banged at his skull demanding attention, and that he briefly gave him, reveling in the pain Darkness caused him, pain that had been absent for far too long.

His eyes refocused on the speck, watching it grow and grow…

Other colors were painted through the brightness eventually, colors that reminded him of blood and fire.

 _Gold._

Darkness reared its head again, this time thrusting itself into the bright speck until it was situated completely in the middle of Light.

Light laughed again and conformed around Darkness until the dot was now a ring. He felt his eyes widen and the curtain Darkness had kept over his thoughts was thrown off violently as he recollected moment after moment. Time stood idly by, waiting for him to understand this small ring.

 _Ring._

Light's laughter was more common now as the Ring grew brighter and brighter, larger and larger. It became common enough that he even opened his mouth, hearing and feeling his own body mimic the sound. It was throaty and raw, and it even hurt to do so. But this hurt he was rapidly growing to love. Pain had been always present, but to feel a _physical_ pain was an incredible experience. It said that he was _alive_.

Surrounding the Ring, he began to see other shapes growing from Darkness. They were cumbersome shapes with the arms and legs that he could only wish for. As Time carried on, the shapes made noises – assorted grunts and growls that made up a language. With Light on his side at last, his mind understood each guttural noise from the shapes, piecing them together to form coherent thoughts and phrases.

They called on him with fear and favor, their shapes bending over in sloppy, but meaningful bows.

The Void was growing smaller, and the moment that the Darkness faded almost completely to a ruined fortress, he laughed again.

 _Dol-Guldur._

Strength was coming back. He was beyond thrilled but still remained wary, keeping his gaze most often on the Ring. Commands fell from his lips in harsh hisses to the dark shapes with the clumsy bows. The world was waiting for him to show them Light. Light had returned, and despite how long it had forsaken him, he was obsessed with it. He had sight because of it, and he began to think that the other things he had were also due to Light's influence.

As Light illuminated the rest of the world for him, he commanded to see more, to have more. The shapes growled and screamed with ecstasy, hurriedly running to and fro to do their master's bidding.

So consumed he was with his Light and the Ring that the moment a woman fell into his grasp, everything burst. The Lady shone brighter than his Ring, brighter than anything Light had let him see. She screamed at him to flee, to die. He could hear Light laughing as it burned at him, flames coating his mind and making his servants wail with Pain. Light pursued, never stopping, always burning brighter, brighter, _brighter_ …

 _Cold._

His breath was shaky when his vision adapted to the Darkness, when he learned of his failure. His second failure. The Ring remained lost, though Light still teased him with the pleasure of seeing it, but the light was so dim compared to the Lady's.

Light played with him, throwing him away harshly as soon as the Lady of Light made her appearance. He was forgotten and felt his mind shivering.

He never truly was corporeal. He knew that now. He could see and hear and even feel, but he was not _real_. He could never be real without the Ring.

As his mind lay battered in the cold, barren wasteland, he felt Darkness hold him again. Darkness hadn't left. Darkness understood him and cradled him, soothing the betrayal while being ever so keen to remind him of Light's evil. Darkness wasn't evil. Darkness wouldn't taunt. Dark could only be Dark while Light could tease with glimmers and shines that often were not real to begin with.

He glared across the ground, staring towards the West to the Sun setting, the Light diving into small lanterns and lighting candles to disturb night's natural darkness in Arda.

He made a vow to himself then with the Ring still a vision in his mind along with the setting Sun. He would break Light. The world would have Darkness.

And Sauron would have an ally.

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 **There it is! Let me know how you like it,** _Draygen!_ **Congrats again!**

 **Love you all lots!**

 **LM**


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